Glory in the Eyes of a Young Girl
by Gallifreyan Ginger
Summary: “One year. So little time for the life I knew to have vanished.” Roger reflects on the changes a single year can bring. PreRENT...but only just barely.


Title: Glory in the Eyes of a Young Girl

Author: Harper's Pixie

Rating: T+ for one word and a few other curse words.

Summary: One year. So little time for the life I knew to have vanished.

A/N: Please don't flame...this is my very first attempt at a RENT fic. It's based off of a challenge from LiveJournal. Umm, it was a challenge where you pick a screen cap from one of the two movie trailers for the movie and write a ficlet around it. I chose one from the scene from the international trailer where Roger is staring sadly out of a window. If you don't know which one I'm talking about...watch the trailers...won't hurt ya. wink

One year. So little time for the life I knew to have vanished. Six months ago, I had my high. Six months before that...I had April. I loved her, I truly did, but we both let our need for a high over shadow our love. A year can't erase the memory of the day she left me...the day she chose death over a life waiting...waiting for sickness...for death.

Those images are forever. I can still see her lifeless form in the bathtub, overflowing with pink tinted water. Her eyes open, staring blankly at nothing, but burning a hole through my soul. She'd left no suicide note, no apology for what she'd done, for the pain her death would cause those who loved her. Her only message was to me. With the dark wine colored lipstick I loved so much on her, she'd signed my death sentence on the mirror. We have AIDS. I went numb then. April was all I had in the world. Of course I had my friends...but it was different with them. April had understood me...understood my needs.

I lean my head against the cold, dingy pane of glass I've been staring out of for most of the day...ok, that's an understatement...the pane of glass I stare out of every single day while Mark's out filming and I'm alone with my thoughts. I close my eyes and once more stop the tears that threaten to come. April's death and her message had sent me deeper into the world of momentary highs and unrelenting cravings. I used harder than I had the entire time April and I were together. Had it not been for Mark, I may have gone the same route as April.

I nearly overdosed six months ago. No matter how much Mark tried to help me, no matter how many times he begged me to stop using, April's death was something I couldn't get over and needed a constant escape from. How could Mark ever understand how I felt! He'd never lost someone he loved! He had Maureen! He had his films! Me? What the hell did I have? I had nothing...no one to help me escape the darkness enveloping me since April's death. So I decided that April had had the right idea. I couldn't slit my wrists like April had though, I didn't have the nerve to take the blade to my skin, but I knew another way of escape. Much like how I'd found April, Mark found me unconscious in the bathroom, needle still in my arm. The last thing I remember before welcoming the darkness was the clang of metal to tile as Mark dropped his beloved camera and sobbed my name.

I woke up three days later, Mark asleep in a chair beside me, glasses askew on his face. He looked about how I felt. He had dark circles under his eyes and for the first time in my many years of knowing him, he was without his camera. Through the haze I was fighting to escape, I remembered the clanging and for the first time in six months I was more worried about Mark's old camera rather than my disaster of a life. He woke as I began to stir. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, he'd been crying. He took my hand, tears coming back to his eyes as a weak smile came to his lips. That's when I realized that I had almost put Mark through all the pain and anguish April had put me through. I saw now how much my friends, how much Mark, cared for me. It was because of him I decided to get clean. I knew I'd die one day, the disease finally taking me, but I'd be damned if I'd kill myself and put Mark through the darkness I'd just started to escape from...he didn't deserve that. No one as innocent and loving as him did. It took six long hard months of withdrawals and cravings, but with Mark's help I was clean.

I open my eyes and look at my Fender collecting dust in the corner. I haven't been able to pick it up since April died. My music had died with her. I have nothing in my life but my memories now. Memories of the glory I could have had and that I'm desperate to find just once more before...the end.

My fingers ache to play again, but my heart isn't into it. Inspiration died along with my soul. Souls are only meant for people who have a purpose in life...me, I've lost my purpose. I have nothing to ignite the fire that used to rage within me.

I turn back to the window and see her. I don't know her name, but she looks so familiar. She leaves the same time every day and returns back here unaware that I've been watching her every day for a month now. I don't know why I'm so compelled to watch her, but I find that I sit here in front of the filthy window most days hoping to catch a glimpse of this young girl and everyday it's the same, she leaves the building and crosses the street and for a moment I feel alive. Then I lose sight of her and I'm back to my melodramatic self as Mark would say.

Half way across the street she stops and turns back. I think that maybe she's forgotten something, but she's not coming back. Instead, she's staring up at me. I freeze as our eyes lock for the first time. For a brief moment I wonder if I should run and hide but her eyes are too breathtaking. Something stirs within me as she stares at me. It's as though she's found something lost and, to her, it's magical. She smiles up at me. I know that smile.

Hey Rog-BAM-Ow! Dammit! I jump, tearing my eyes away from the girl to see if Mark's still alive. He is leaning against one of the wooden beams, his camera held in a death grip close to his chest in one hand, his newly damaged shin in the other. Once again he's come in filming and once again he's run into the small coffee table near my amp. I used to spend hours sitting in front of it writting, but now it's as covered in dust as my Fender.

I swear that thing moves everytime I come in here...like it wants me to trip and break my camera. he says. Only Mark would be more concerned about his precious camera over his own well-being. I look at him, a humored grin coming to my lips. Sometimes he's just too clumsy for his own good.

It never moves, Marky. After more than five times of hitting it, you should know where it is, I say as turn back to the window.

She's gone...but I'm not sulking. Something's different. I feel something begin to come alive deep within me. For the first time in a year, a song is stirring in my head. I get up from the window and pass Mark, who's still mumbling curses as he limps his way over to the furnace, checking to see if there's any heat coming from it...there's not.

Benny's turned the heat off again. Ya know you'd think he'd have some empathy for us! He did live here once and he knows how cold it gets when it's 15 fucking degrees outside, Mark angrily says as he wraps his scarf tighter around his neck and pulls his coat closer to his thin frame.

My only reply is a slight shiver. I walk over to my Fender, wipe away the thick layer of dust, plug it into my amp, and begin to tune it. I know this catches Mark's attention because he comes rushing over to me, camera now in it's normal position in front of his face. He begins filming beginning with his usual sing-song announcement of the date and time. I try to concentrate, but I can't get the girl's eyes out of my head...that smile. I've found my Glory...if only I knew her name.

First shot - Roger...tuning the Fender guitar he hasn't played in a year.

The end.

Hope you liked that. Never thought I'd write anything but sci-fi...but I really liked writing with the characters of RENT! So please review and tell me what you thought.


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